


Kitten

by anastasiiya



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiiya/pseuds/anastasiiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya’s mother sold herself to survive. She also sold Illya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten

They’re on a mission in Ukraine. Illya and Gaby are in the field, the Russian in a local bar and Gaby wandering through shops. Napoleon is monitoring their conversations and prepared as back up. Both of them are microphoned, and Napoleon is alternating between their conversations.

And then he hears it.

_“Hey! HEY! That cannot be my little kitten?”_

_“What do you want.”_

Napoleon’s at attention, because Illya has not asked a question. It’s a demand.

“ _Kitten, it’s been so long. Look at you, all grown up! Whatever happened to you and Mama Cat?”_

Illya muttered something Napoleon can’t make out and the man cackled.

_“Feisty as always, pet. How much for the night?”_

Napoleon freezes because he can hear Illya’s breathing pattern, and it’s the exercise he and Peril have been working on to help him manage his anger.

“ _Fuck you.”_ Illya growls, and Napoleon hears a crunching sound which he assumes is Illya’s fist slamming into the man’s face.

“Time to go, Peril.” Napoleon says into his master mic, and he watches Illya’s movements via the tracker in his shoe.

“ _You will not repeat this to Gaby._ ” Illya demands.

“Peril—“

“ _Do not talk to me.”_

And Napoleon bites his lip to remain quiet.

 

He doesn’t mention it to Gaby when she comes back to hotel from her shopping. Napoleon instead calls it a night, and leaves Gaby in her room with all the tracking equipment and returns to his and Illya’s shared room.

Illya is reading in his double bed when Napoleon returns. He doesn’t look up as Napoleon fumbles around the room, talking to himself as he pours himself some scotch and changes into his pajamas.

Napoleon flops onto his double bed and sighs. Illya snaps his book shut and jerks Napoleon from his rest.

“Shit,” Napoleon whines at his spilled drink. He looks up to find Illya staring at him.

“You are not mentioning to Gaby.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Peril doesn’t reply, and Napoleon gets up to refill his scotch.

“Illya?”

“What?”

Napoleon decides to pour a second drink, and pushes it into Illya’s hand. The blond sighs.

“I’m not going to talk about it unless you bring it up.” Napoleon says softly. “However, I think… I know…”

“What.” Illya says. “What do you think you know?”

“I adore you.” Napoleon blurts. “I… I think that there are a lot of things you don’t want to talk about and I won’t press you, but I...”

Illya stares at him, and kicks back the entirety of the scotch in his glass.

“Thank you, cowboy.” Illya says as he runs a finger down the empty glass. “It is probably what you think. I don’t want to talk.”

Napoleon nods, knocking his drink back as well.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

Illya shrugs. “Is done. I have moved on. Spy life is okay.”

Napoleon can feel himself shake. “How dare they. How dare she.”

“Cowboy.” Illya taps his chin. “No tears.”

“I’m not,” but he is, and Napoleon chokes out a dry sob. “How _dare they._ ”

Illya moves to Napoleon’s bed and drags the American into a hug.

“Fuck.” Napoleon chokes. “I should be—you—“

“Shh.” Illya says, and pats Napoleon’s back. “I have ages to process. My mother… we lived. Is enough.”

“I won’t tell Gaby.”

“Okay. I am…” Illya pauses, searching for a word. “I was ashamed. Is weak, is dirty.”

“You are not.” Napoleon insists.

“I know.” Illya replies. “Still feels that way sometimes. He reminded me.”

“Bastard.” Napoleon glowers. “I’m glad you punched his face.”

Illya chuckles deeply. “Oh, yes. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> xoxo


End file.
